


Don’t Read Dad’s Journal

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry John Winchester, Brother Feels, Caring Dean Winchester, Dean is good big brother, Dean mentions that fateful night, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester Tries, Kid Winchesters, Late Night Conversations, Parent John Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad, Sad Sam Winchester, Sad Sammy Winchester, Sam Winchester Asks Questions, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, hurt/comfort at it’s finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: “He never told me how Mom died! I still thought it was a house fire! But it wasn’t, was it? It was some creature that set the house on fire.”“Actually it pinned mom to the ceiling and -“Sam shrieked. It was so loud it startled Dean to the point where he jumped back.





	Don’t Read Dad’s Journal

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been giving focusing on a lot of Dean’s pain recently. So Sorry Sam, it’s your turn. 
> 
> This one has me really excited and emotional. I really hope you like it as much as I do. :) :)

> **Montana** , **March 10th**
> 
> Dean 14, Sam 10. 

It was pitch black outside the window of the tiny motel room in Montana. The night had rolled over, bringing with it the threat of a summer storm. Nestled in the motel chair, cosy with a blanket was Dean Winchester- fourteen-year-old hunter with a sharp-shot that could kill. But right now, Dean wasn’t hunting with his father or even training for that matter. He was watching late night TV with his eyes glued to the box when he should’ve been asleep. 

He didn't even know why he was watching it. He didn't laugh when he was supposed to, he didn't feel any tension during the drama, he barely followed the plot. He just sat there next to the Oreo packet until to his surprise they were gone. Then Dean tapped out the crumbs into his palm and threw is head back to inhale them. His eyes rested back on the flickering screen and found that in his brief distraction the commercials had begun. Often he preferred them to the show. They were short and attention grabbing. 

A soft sniffle caught Dean’s attention faster than the boring TV. Quickly, he turned around to see where the source of sound was coming from. “Sammy?” He asked in a hushed tone. 

“Dean.” 

The quiet voice came from the other side of the chair. Dean turned towards it; startle to find Sam standing next to him with a red nose. His brother’s soft, round face wrinkled till it resembled a withered crabapple. Dean listened intently and watched closely; he heard the small sniffs and saw two drops of water spill from the crinkled eyes. _Crap_. 

“Oh Sammy, what’s wrong?” Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother. By now, Sam was full on crying, loud noisy crying. Though it was typical for Sam to cry loudly, it was rare for him to cry at all. 

Dean prided himself in raising Sam to be a tough son of a gun. When Dad wasn’t around, which was often, Dean did most of the cooking, cleaning, and care-taking. Early on, he taught Sam how to clean his own cuts. While placing band-aids over each scratch, Dean would draw a smiley face to make his brother laugh. 

“You have to smile, Sammy. It helps the pain go away. Don’t cry. Crying will get you beat-up at school. You need to be tough. Okay? So come on tough guy, smile.” 

Sam, always being one to listen to his big brother, learned not to cry at every little thing. He (like Dean) only cried when something was really, really wrong. 

“Sammy? Talk to me.” Dean ordered. Sam flinched but stared directly past Dean’s face. He looked like he saw a ghost. Gulping at the thought, Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Look at me, Sam.”

Gradually, the terror in his gaze melted away and his eyes fell on Dean’s face. Sam threw himself at Dean, unable to hold back his desire for human contact any longer. Besides, his brother gives the best hugs. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Sam cried, hiccuping a few times as he struggled to breathe.

 Dean put his arms around the boy's shoulders, rubbing. “Shhh, Sammy. What happened.” 

“I had a nightmare. So I went to find Dad’s big sweater that he lets me use when I’m scared.”

Dean knew exactly what Sam was talking about. Ever since Sam was little he had nightmares about clowns and burglars and freaky masked men. Dad assured him it was nothing but an over active imagination. Dreams can’t hurt you, only monsters, ghosts or demons. Of course, Dad didn’t tell Sam that part. Instead, he gave Sam his big black hoodie to sleep with. It basically became Sam’s blankie and he cuddled that thing all the time. 

“I was looking through the duffle bag for the sweater and I found Dad’s journal.”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed in shock. He pulled his brother back so he could look into his eyes. “Dad already screamed at you for reading it last Christmas. He’ll kick your ass if he realizes you read it again.”

At the look on Sam’s face, Dean quickly back tracked. “Oh...But... it won’t be that bad. Don’t cry, Sammy. Dad will understand. It’s okay.” 

Sam snorted, “Dad never understands anything.” He said, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his nightshirt. “Dean... The journal said... dad said... mom..mom... was murdered. Something killed her!” 

“I thought you and Dad talked about this last Christmas?” 

“He never told me how Mom died! I still thought it was a house fire! But it wasn’t, was it? It was some creature that set the house on fire.”

“Actually it pinned mom to the ceiling and -“

Sam shrieked. It was so loud it startled Dean to the point where he jumped back. “Sam-“

The child slumped, and began to cry into his hands. When he looked up, his face was a mess of red veins and tears. “I killed mom!” He blurted out. 

“What? You didn’t kill mom. Why would you think that?” The sobs coming from the small boy made Dean’s heart snap. He was beating himself up over nothing.  

“It happened in my nursery. Mom was coming to check on me. I killed mom.” 

“No you didn’t. Some other son-of-a-bitch did. And Dad’s gonna find that bastard and kill him. But it’s not your fault. Whatever happened that night wasn’t your fault.” 

“Dad thought it was. He said he wished mom would’ve stayed in bed. He said he wished I was never born because then mom would still be alive.”

“Oh God.” Dean muttered, mainly to himself. “Listen, Sam, When Dad wrote that crap he was grieving. He didn’t mean it. Honestly, Sam, you have to believe me. Dad loves you so much. Heck, I remember that horrible night and I remember the months that followed. You were six months old, and I was four. Dad told me to protect you. So he obviously cares. And Dad must have screamed at me a million times a day because he was so angry about what happened to mom, but he never blamed me. He just... took some of his anger out on me. Maybe that’s what he was doing when he wrote that crap, you know? Maybe he was just taking his anger and putting it on you. But then he put all his anger on the thing that killed mom. Because I remember he spent all day, everyday in bed drinking a bottle of something and I was all alone and scared. But then he snapped out of it and he started being Dad again. I think he put all his anger and energy into finding the thing that killed mom and that gave him a purpose to keep going. So trust me, Sam, he doesn’t blame you. If he did, he’d beat you or something. And you and I both know Dad could beat you to a bloody pulp cause he’s so strong. But he doesn’t.” 

Sam took a moment to swallow everything Dean just said to him. “You never told me that before.” 

Dean shrugged, “I don’t like talking about it.” 

“Are you sure Dad doesn’t hate me.”

“Yes.” Dean said. He was sure. Dad didn’t hate Sam. He could never hate Sam. Dean himself, yeah Dad could hate him at times, but not Sam. 

The bed in the motel room creaked and John  Winchester Sat up, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Boys?” He whispered hoarsely. “What are you doing up? It’s two o’clock in the morning.” 

Sam’s crying and shrieking woke John up from his deep slumber. Initially, he knew something was wrong because he heard the quiet sniffles of his youngest, but as he got to his feet he stepped on the duffle bag, and saw the opened  journal. 

Rage filled within John as he realized why Sam was upset. The boy must have read his journal and now he’s crying because he knows he’s in trouble. 

Stomping over to the chair where Sam and Dean sat, John grabbed Sam’s arm. Dean’s eyes widened in horror. 

“Dad no!” Dean screamed just as John’s open palm connected with Sam’s backside. 

Sam squeezed his eyes tightly in pain. His hands quickly went to his stinging bottom to protect them from further onslaught. 

 Dean was up, and already at Sam’s side, wedging himself between his brother and his father. He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and stoked his little brother’s hair. 

Sam kept his eyes shut. The same pained expression stuck to his face as if it were frozen. Dean’s soft, worried eyes turned hard and cold when he looked up at his father. Big brother was in protective mode. 

John took a step forward and Dean threw one hand out to stop him and the other one remained on Sam’s shoulder. 

“No Dad!” He yelled, “Don’t touch him.”

“Dean.”

“He’s upset enough. He doesn’t need to be punished.” 

“I deserve it.” Sam whispered finally opening his eyes. “Go ahead Dad.”  

“No Sammy.” Dean yelled. 

John’s anger was depleted, and replaced with concern. “Why is he upset. Is it because he read my journal and now he knows he’s getting a serious ass blistering.”

“Dad -“ Dean tried, but was cut off. 

“I don’t want to hear it. I warned him three times about touching it. Last Christmas was the fourth and final warning. I told him if he ever does it again he’s getting a royal butt roasting.”

“Ok, ok, Dad. He gets it. But that’s not why he’s upset. He thinks you hate him!” Dean blurted out before John could interrupt. 

Standing dumbfounded, John looked between his two sons. Sammy’s frame was so small compared to Dean, he looked even smaller since he was hiding behind his protective big brother. 

John had also warned Dean about protecting Sam from a punishment. Right now, Dean’s earned himself a weeks worth of running laps but considering the circumstances John decided to reconsider. His baby thinks he hates him. How could he even think that. 

“What on God’s green earth would make you think that.” John asked, looking directly at Sam now. 

The younger boy winced and twisted his face away from his father. The last thing he wanted was for his Dad to see him cry. 

“Because you said so in your journal.” Dean explained. 

“I never said that.” John defended. 

“You said you wish I was never born!” Sam cried in anger. “Is that why you’re always so hard on me? Is that why I can’t join any sports teams or have any friends!” 

John’s anger was back as soon as his son’s voice was raised. He’s explained to Sam so many times why he can’t have a normal life and none of it had anything to do with John’s love or hate for his kid. 

“You know why you can’t do that crap! My job doesn’t permit me to stay in one place long enough -“

“Oh you mean the job you never told me about! I had to find out about it myself.”

“Which brings us back to you reading my journal. None of this crap would’ve happened if you wouldn’t have read the damn thing in the first place.” John screamed. 

“So you were keeping that a secret from me too? Just like you hid the fact you were a hunter from me for nine years! You were gonna hide the fact that mom died in my nursery! And that you hate me.”

“Dammit Sam! I don’t hate you! It wasn’t your fault. I was drunk and angry and in so much pain after your mother passed. I wrote a lot of stuff in the beginning of that journal. Stuff that came from dark place, stuff that isn’t true. I was just trying to work out my emotions.”

Sam shook his head, “but you wrote it! So you must have thought it was true at some point.”

“Sammy I have never hated you. Every time when you were a kid and I would look into your little eyes, my heart would swell two sizes. Same with Dean. You boys were my life. You still are my life. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning and keep fighting.” 

“You just want revenge.”

“I do want revenge! I want it so badly I’m willing to do a lot of dangerous shit. But it doesn’t change my love for you.” John explained. He gave his son a pat on the head, Sam flinched away. “Now, I’m sorry you had to read that. I’m sorry I wrote that. But you shouldn’t have been in my journal in the first place. So come here.”

“Dad no.” Dean said, once again reaching out to stop his father from hurting his brother. 

“That’s it Dean, twelve laps tomorrow morning. move.”

“But Dad.” Dean pleaded. 

“Thirteen Laps.”

“Dad.”

“Fourteen laps.”

“Dean, just move.” Sam cried. “I don’t care. He can beat me if he wants. It’s obvious he doesn’t care about me at all.”

John moved dangerously close to Sam’s face. Dean had to literally wrap his arms around Sam. 

“Oh trust me kiddo, I could do a hell of a lot worse. You’ve never been beat in your life. If I wanted to beat you, I’d slap you right across your disrespectful little mouth. But that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Oh really?” Sam challenged. For a ten-year-old he had a lot of fire. 

John’s only answer was to pull Sam under his arm, hold him in place and lay into his ass with a lot of heavy smacks. 

“Stop it, come on.” Dean yelled, standing next to his Dad. 

“I should take my belt off. But once again, I don’t believe in beating either of my children.” He said as he pounded away. 

“Jesus Dad, you’re being a jerk.” Dean yelled, trying to reach out and stop his arm from lifting. John responded by shoving Dean out of the way, knocking him back. Dean could have ran over and tried to stop him again, but if his Dad wanted to whip Sam, then there was no stopping him. 

Sam was crying tears of anger and pain, stomping his foot on John’s foot. Trying to cause his father as much pain as he was causing Sam. 

John swatted right through the tantrum his kid was throwing. He waited until Sam stopped stomping to sit down on the couch and pull Sam over his lap. By now the kid was going limp which was odd because he didn’t usually submit to a punishment. 

John pulled down his pajama pants and underwear. He aimed the rest of the swats at Sam’s sensitive under curve where his butt met his thighs. Sam howled in agony completely mortified that Dean was witnessing this. John was catching his sensitive thighs and Sam hated him for it. His thighs were not meant to be treated so viciously. Everything was burning. 

“Don’t go through my journal, and don’t yell at me, boy. Next time we have to have this conversation we’ll have it with the spoon.”

John stopped the spanking suddenly. He yanked Sam’s clothes up and pulled him in for a quick hug which Sam pushed away. After that, John left the motel room, eager to walk off his anger. A loud slam of the door disturbed what was once a quiet evening as John strode outside. 

Dean stared at the motel door with boiling rage. He hated his dad right now. That was the last thing his little brother needed. Damn he was so mad. 

“Dean.” Came Sam’s pitiful cry. _His brother was calling for him!_ Quickly, Dean gathered Sam in his arms. 

“Hey ya, Sammy.” Dean said quietly, rocking him. “You’re all right.” 

“Dad’s really mean.”

Dean wanted to defend his father. Normally he did defend his father. But right now he was too angry to care. “I know. He’s an ass. Let’s not talk about him.” Dean said softly, “Why don’t we eat some of that left over cake from Bobby’s birthday party.”

“Don’t feel like it.” Sam sniffled. 

“Do you want some chocolate milk?” Dean asked. 

“Okay.” Sam agreed, looking a little more cheery. “What are you, my waiter?” 

“Hey I’m just trying to make you feel better, don’t be a brat.” 

Sam sniffled out a laugh, “Sorry.” He curled up with a blanket and when Dean came back with cake, chocolate milk and an ice pack Sam opened the covers to invite him in. They flipped on the TV again and found some old classic Superman re-runs. Dean slipped the ice pack down Sam’s pants, ignoring the way his brother shifted around, no doubt trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Shh.” Dean shushed when Sam began sniffling. “Look, Superman is saving Lois Lane again. It never gets old, does it?” 

Sam snorted, a few more tears dribbled down his chin. He was clutching Dean’s shirt tightly, feeling very sorry for himself. 

“Still hurt?” Dean asked. But he knew it wasn’t just the physical pain. Sam and Dad have been at each other’s throats for a while and tonight was just the tip of the iceberg for what’s to come.

“Yeah.” He whimpered, “But it will go away. You taught me that.” 

Dean gulped a large piece of cake down then washed it with some chocolate milk. “I did?” 

“You taught me a lot of stuff.” Sam whispered, letting go of his shirt. 

Dean bit his lip, a look of pretend shock crossed his features. “I really messed you up.” 

Sam shoved him finally smiling. This time he stole a bite of Dean’s cake. 

“Hey! I thought you didn’t want any.”

“I’m the one with the sore butt. I deserve the cake.” 

“Oh yeah? Do you have rights to it?” Dean tickled Sam’s ribs, making the kid laugh until his lungs were about to explode. Sam nearly kicked Dean in the face as he rolled off the couch. 

He landed on the floor with a wince, reaching both hands back to hurt his stinging skin. 

“Sorry Sammy.” Dean said with a smirk, “but I’m older. So I have more cake rights.” 

Sam jumped back on Dean’s lap making the older kid howl in surprise. He let out a few curse words, then gave Sam half his piece of cake. “I’m calling a peace treaty before things get out of hand.” 

“Good idea, because you know I could tell Kathy about your midnight makeout session with Taylor.” Sam said laughing. 

“Oh you’re cruel.” Dean responded. He leaned back on the chair and tossed a blanket over Sam and himself. 

“Comfy?” 

Sam nodded. He rested back against Dean’s chest, feeling sad once again. He gulped looking at the empty parking lot. “How long do you think Dad will be gone?”

Dean shrugged, “an hour or so.” 

“Do you think he’ll be mad when he gets back?”

“No.” Dean whispered, “I think he’s gonna cool off and regret this.” 

“Hey Dean?” 

“Huh?”

“What did you mean by Dad use to take his anger out on you? What did he do?”

“I’m lost?” Dean said, but Sam could feel the way he tensed. 

“You said he use to scream at you a million times. Why? You were just a little kid. What could you have possibly done to deserve that?” 

Dean shrugged, “I didn’t follow orders.”

“Dean you were four.”

“Yeah And I screw up a lot. I could’ve gotten you hurt. Or myself, which actually happened quite a few times.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, just stupid stuff. Like I wouldn’t listen when Dad told me not to touch a hot stove. I didn’t eat when Dad told me to and he got mad. Stuff like that.” 

While Sam was processing the information, Dean quickly changed the subject. “This show is so boring. There is nothing on at three in the morning. Except look at this infomercial! Wow, Riveting T.V. Am I right?” 

“Dean. Do you think Dad hates me.”

He sighed, squeezing Sam tightly in a hug, “No I don’t. Hey, you better not tell anyone about this hugging thing or I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

“Please don’t threaten that right now.” Sam whined, squirming around. 

Dean smirked, “he roasted you good.”

“Shut up! He kicked your ass last year and you wouldn’t get out of bed for like three days.” 

“I had a broken leg!”

“You were sore.”

“Whatever.” Dean huffed. He went to change the channel. Nothing was on, Damnit!  

 “Hey Dean,” Sam whispered, “I’m sorry. I wan’t trying to embarrass you. Especially after you’ve been so nice. Thank you for always making me feel better.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said not paying him any attention, “bitch”

Sam smiled. _I love you too_.  “Jerk.” 

 


End file.
